


I Walk The Line

by cherryvanillou



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band), One Direction (Band)
Genre: Depression, Drug Addiction, Drugs, F/F, F/M, Grief, M/M, Self Harm, Smut, Violence, but there will be - Freeform, closeting, drug addict, no clue how much right now
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-31
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:46:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25831543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherryvanillou/pseuds/cherryvanillou
Summary: ❝𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞, 𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞. ❞i walk the line1. (𝘪𝘥𝘪𝘰𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘤) to maintain an intermediate position between contrasting choices, opinions, etc.2. (𝘪𝘥𝘪𝘰𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘤) to behave in an authorized or socially accepted manner, especially as prescribed by law or morality; to exercise self control.Louis Tomlinson helps the green eyed boy named Harry Styles leave a gang.Julieta Cortez just wants Félicité Tomlinson to like her back.❝𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐈 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐈'𝐝 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐫𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐢𝐝𝐞. ❞
Relationships: Félicité Tomlinson/Orginal Female character (s), Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, Luke Hemmings/Ashton Irwin, Zayn Malik/Liam Payne
Kudos: 3





	1. I. Best Years

**Author's Note:**

> Woah so it’s taken me time to finally work up enough courage to post here on AO3 but here we are. Big shoutout to Vishan/Gucci for listening to me cry about Larry and cry with me. Oh and shoutout to Tasha for pretending to care about my endless rants about One Direction. Same thing for Kai. Okay, enough blabbering here’s chapter one

_❝You've got a million reasons to hesitate_

_But darling, the future is better than yesterday_

_I wasted so much time on people that reminded me of you_

_Gave you a million reasons to walk away_

_But I'll build a house out of the mess and all of the broken pieces_

_I'll make up for all of your tears.❞_

_-5 Seconds of Summer_

꧁ ** _L O U I S_** ꧂

**LOUIS** certainly was not ready for when his alarm rang, signaling the beginning of a new day, specifically, a new weekday. It was Monday, and all Louis wanted to do was roll over in bed and sleep ten more minutes. He knew by now that ten extra minutes of sleep could mean that his siblings would arrive at school at least an hour late.

Groaning with effort, Louis sits up in bed and swings his legs off the bed. He shivers involuntarily as his feet touch the cold ground. The sky outside was still very much dark, even though it was 4:50 in the morning. He paddles mindlessly into the bathroom, avoiding looking at himself in the mirror, which is the most challenging task ever.

He's pale, his cheeks are sunken, and there seem to be permanent bags under his eyes. His hair is a mess, and he needs to shave. He is running a hand through the coarse stubble growing on his jaw. He opens the cabinet mindlessly, thankful the mirror is facing away from him. Louis picks up his medicine; he glances at the name on it, Louis William Tomlinson. Prozac. At least that's what he remembers his psychiatrist referring to it as, on the bottle, there's another name that he doesn't even attempt to pronounce.

He swallows his pill dry, discarding his clothes as he steps into the shower. They need to be out of the house by six-thirty, Louis wishes that the weekend lasted longer than two days. Wrapping up his shower, Louis steps out with his hair dripping water down his back and a towel loosely wrapped around his waist.

Louis puts on a casual shirt that doesn't seem to smell _too_ bad and wordlessly slips it on. He struggles into his jeans and tugs a beanie on his wild hair. Humming a tune under his breath Louis makes his way around the house into each of his siblings' rooms. He starts in Ernie and Doris' room, cracking the door open and smiling when he sees the babies of the house sleeping soundly.

"Up, up, up," he chirps, placing a soft kiss on each of their foreheads. Doris is up in a second, grinning madly at her older brother. Ernie, however, is always a different story. With a little more pleading and tickles from Louis' side, he finally walks down to the kitchen following his sister. One pair of twins down, off he goes to the harder ones.

He opens the door, smiling proudly as he sees his sisters sleeping. Louis walks over to Phoebe, her sleeping form, making her look much younger than she is. Louis grins, as an idea makes its way into his head. He wakes her up with a loud and wet kiss to the cheek.

Phoebe's eyes fly open, and she bolts up in bed, furiously wiping at her cheek. "Eww!" she mewls "That's disgusting!" She glares daggers at her laughing brother, and Louis messes up her hair even more. "Bugger off!" she exclaims as she storms out of the room.

Daisy is sitting up in bed, a small and sleepy grin on her face. "I'm just glad that isn't me," she admits through a gigantic yawn. She plants a kiss on Louis' cheek and brushes past him. Okay, this day is undoubtedly going better than a regular Monday. Now on to the last, Fizzy.

Her room is at the end of the hallway; she used to share it with Lottie before she moved out. Daisy and Phoebe didn't have to share a room since Louis had his flat, but after the death of their mother, he had to move back in because their father became a useless widower who barely left his room, let alone showered.

When he opens the door, Louis is surprised to see that Félicité isn't in her bed, or her room for that matter. He could have sworn she was there last night when Louis checked up on her before heading to bed himself.

The bed wasn't made, which was a good sign, but he doesn't relax until he sees her phone plugged on her nightstand. Louis walks towards it, picking it up. The background is Fizzy, and some of her friends in a club-like setting, and a frown immediately spreads on his face. There are some new messages, but Louis doesn't let himself read through them, Fizzy deserves privacy.

Before Louis could put it down, it's being ripped away from his hands. "What are you doing with my phone?" Félicité hisses, holding the electronic device up to her chest. She is disturbingly pale, and her hair is a mess, countless strands escape the messy bun on her head and stick to her forehead with sweat. She was worse eye bags than Louis himself, which is saying something.

"I just—" he stutters, struggling to find a reasonable excuse. The truth is, he didn't have one. "Sorry, got worried when I didn't see you."

Félicité just glares, pushing past him and getting a pouch out of the drawer in her nightstand. She has an odd smell, like barf, sweat, and something else he can't quite place. "You okay?" he asks, a hand softly resting on Fizzy's cheekbone. "You look sick, baby."

She pulls away from his touch. "'M fine," she murmurs. "I'm showering today."

Louis watches in silence as Félicité disappears into her and the twin's bathroom. He knows that out of all his siblings, the death of his mother possibly hit Fizzy the hardest. She has never been quite the same since. She spends too much time with her friends that Louis barely knows, and is always so closed off. Yeah, Daisy and Phoebe are both grumpy fifteen-year-olds, but Félicité is almost eighteen.

With one last sigh, he leaves the room. The house is buzzing again; he hears the giggles from downstairs in the kitchen, where Daisy and Phoebe are in charge of giving the younger pair of twins their breakfast as well as their own.

Louis makes the bed for the younger twins, although they are very much capable of doing that themselves. They're six, all grown up, and Louis can't help but tear up at that. To him, they'll always be his babies. In a few minutes, the room is spotless, and he gives a grin to no one in particular as he exits the room.

Fizzy is out of the bathroom, her hair flowing down her back nicely, and she doesn't look as dead as before. When Louis places a kiss on her nose, he finds that she doesn't smell like a decaying body anymore. She doesn't react to him, just brushes past him, and is down in the kitchen. He ignores the pain in his gut at the cold attitude of his sister. At this point, it isn't rare from her, but it still hurts.

Ernie and Doris rush past Louis and into their room, obviously making it a competition to see who could get ready faster. He heard the giggles coming from their place as he stepped inside, pulling Doris' curly red hair into a braid. He couldn't remember when he learned to do that, Louis had acquired too many hairstyles and often forgot that he even knew them.

Ernest was having a bit of a hard time tying his shoes, so Louis bent down and helped him. His blonde hair was getting out of control, and Louis made a mental note to set up an appointment to get him a haircut.

"Louis, we're out of tampons!" Daisy yells from the bathroom. He furrowed his eyebrows, Louis swore that they had enough last time he checked.

"Do you have enough for today?" He called back.

"Yeah! I'll have to ask my friends for a change, but I'll survive."

Louis guesses that means he's going to have to go shopping soon. He grabbed the lunchboxes that belonged to his youngest siblings, packing them into their bags. All of his siblings piled into the hallway to the door, fumbling with their coats and scarves as the October air was bitterly cold for some odd reason.

With one last tug to each of their siblings' scarves and a lot of protesting from Phoebe and Félicité, who complained that they didn't need to be babied. They were out of the house, and Louis let out a sigh of satisfaction when he realized that they were on time. "Good job today, kiddos," he congratulated his siblings as they went out the door. Fizzy and the older twins walked to school, and the younger ones were dropped off at nursery by Louis.

He buckled them into their car seats, yelling his goodbyes at his sisters and telling them to stay safe. They picked up the twins after school, as Louis would be working then. He kissed the younger one's forehead and drove off. Another successful morning, hopefully, the entire week went by like this.

:::

Louis was wrong. The entire week was a mess, and Ernie and Doris got to nursery late more times than they were early. He is working right now, and he'd gotten a text from Daisy a few hours earlier saying they made it home safe.

The restaurant Louis worked at was called Little Italy, and it was an Italian restaurant, of course. He worked countless shifts as a waiter because they pay okay, and the tips were ten times better. They were in the better part of the city, where the wealthier people lived. He hummed along with the soft song playing as he put the plates of pasta and pizza in front of awaiting eager costumers, smiling and being as lovely as he could.

Niall, one of Louis' coworkers and best mates, took care of the bar, was chatting up the costumers as he served them drinks. He looked up and saw Louis, giving him one of his signature grins. The lad was painfully Irish, except for the fact that Niall had brown hair. He used to dye it blond so much his hair ended up feeling like hay instead of actual hair. Now his hair was a chestnut brown, falling over his forehead in a delicate fringe.

Eleanor, the surprisingly young manager, was also Louis' friend. They all went to college together. However, Eleanor was the only one out of the group of friends that went to university. Yet somehow, they all ended up here.

She was behind the register, talking with a woman who seemed to be rather happy about the service. His friend Stan was there also, one of the cooks. He was the main chef, of course, and Louis could hear him yelling orders. Sometimes he felt Stan was worse than Gordon Ramsey.

It was past two, which meant his shift would end soon. It technically was a Saturday morning, and it was busy. He was doing pretty well, the tips kept coming, and Louis felt proud. He contemplated taking on an extra shift because the extra money could mean he could take his siblings out of ice cream or for dinner. They deserved it.

However, a few minutes later, the phone rang. Eleanor usually answers it, and it's often a customer ordering food. With a sigh, Louis walks over to it as he realized that no one was going to answer it.

"Hi this is Louis from Little Italy, how may I help you today?" He spoke into the phone, using the line that sounded more like a robot than himself.

"Louis!" Phoebe's frantic voice came through the phone. Immediately Louis stood up straighter, and panic settled in his stomach.

"Phoebs, are you okay?" he asks. Louis looks around the restaurant, and no one seems to be paying him any mind.

"I've been calling you like crazy, but you never answered your phone," Phoebe is rambling, and Louis could hear the panic in her voice.

"Phoebe, what is it?" He asks much more forcefully.

"Félicité hasn't come home at all today," she barely whispers.

The entire world seems to have stopped around Louis, and all the air left his lungs.

His sister, his baby girl, she was missing. The feeling in his gut was enough of a reassurance. "What do you mean she's not home?" Dread was the only thing Louis could feel.

"She didn't come home with us after school; I figured she had some kind of project with a classmate and forgot to tell us. It's been hours now, and she hasn't come home, and we're worried." Phoebe rambles on, and Louis could hear Daisy talking to her sister.

"Did you eat dinner?" he asked.

Louis was thankfully smart enough to distribute the household work within his elder, more capable siblings, and himself so it wouldn't be as heavy. They had a dinner rotation, which meant each day a different sibling would be responsible for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Today was Fizzy's turn.

"Yes, I made us something after a while, we've been trying to reach Fiz, but she won't answer."

The feeling of dread that a parent has is much more different than the usual anxiety. Because of the loss of their parents, Louis was forced to grow up way too fast, and assume the role of caretaker and guardian to his younger siblings.

Louis feels as all the air in the world wouldn't be enough for him or his lungs as he watches the people become blurs of color. "Hang tight, I'll find her," Is all he is capable of saying to his younger sisters before hanging up the phone.

He feels as if he suddenly were walking through water, each step becoming heavier and his mouth suddenly feeling like cotton. Thank god his shift ends soon because he needs the money and to get out of here. Once he reaches the staff room, Louis is surprised to find Niall chilling there, leaning against the counter typing on his phone.

The Irish lad must have heard Louis come in because he looks up as his signature grin spreads across his face, fading as soon as he notices the expression of death on Louis' face.

"Mate you, alright?" Niall's tone is cautious, and he steps toward the fizzy Louis with slow motions. His hands rest on his shaking shoulders, and Louis looks up to his friend's eyes. "My sister is missing Niall, and I'm fucking panicking," he gasps. It's suddenly much harder to breathe.

Niall takes a sharp intake of breath, and his phone is back in his pocket. "C'mon, I'll drive you." And before Louis could think of protesting, he was out the door.

Eleanor spots them about to leave, and Louis could see it in her eyes that she was about to scold them. However, one stern look from Niall and Louis's condition was enough to make her back down.

The night is disgustingly cold, but Niall seems unfazed by this as they settle in the car. "Do you know where to look?" he asks, the car comes alive underneath them, and they're pulling out.

"I have no clue," Louis exhales shakily.

Niall considers this for a second, before speaking up again. "We could take it to the police Tommo," his voice is soft and cautious because he _knows_ Louis will refuse.

He does precisely that. "No!" He exclaims, shaking his head furiously. "If we get the police involved, then they're going to rule me an unfit guardian and take them away. We are not telling anyone unless we have absolutely no other choice."

Niall bites his lip, glancing sideways at Louis' bouncing leg. "Well, what do we do?"

Louis is about to burst out in tears because he is lost as to what course of action they should take. His mind runs over all the possible scenarios that could have kept Félicité from coming home, and each of them makes him even more queasy.

Louis' phone rings, making both Niall and him jump in surprise. He scrambles to get it, unlocking it and looking at the message from an unknown number. It's an address, and the text below it reads _come quick._ And holy fuck Louis knows where it is.

He'd been there countless times during his wild teenage years, with Niall strangely enough. The color drains from his face because he knows that it is not a place for the faint of heart.

"Happy Pill Club," Louis gasps, and Niall looks up at him eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He looks over to his friend sitting behind the wheel, and his hands are shaking uncontrollably as he grips his arm. "Niall, she's in Happy Pill Club."

Happy Pill Club is an underground club where people go to get fucked up, alcohol and drugs are as easy to find there as bread and water, and people don't know about it unless they're invited.

Before he can say anything else, Niall is speeding off, ignoring the countless curses from the people that he so carelessly cut off. Louis would be scolding the blond lad for his reckless driving if he weren't urging him to go faster. The streets are surprisingly crowded, of course, they are. It's early Saturday morning. People were coming back from their parties and ragers.

Louis hadn't been to the club since he was a teen since he struggled with addiction himself. He had gone the painfully long road of addiction and recovery and would never wish it upon anyone, let alone one of his sisters. As they drove, Louis prayed silently that his sister just ended up there by mistake, and that she was not involved in any drugs.

His nails dug into the soft skin of his palm, leaving behind crescent marks. The pain helped keep him grounded as he watched street by street go by.

They finally make it, and the building looks the same as it always did. An old abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of town, and he could hear the music blasting as they got closer. Niall has to physically stop Louis from throwing himself out of the car and forces him to wait until they park, which they do on a tow-away zone. Neither of them seems to give a shit as the step out of the car and run to the door.

Two big tattooed men talk to each other by the door, guns very obviously resting against their thighs. They laugh rather loudly, a fag on each of their hands. Louis and Niall approach them with caution.

"Lewis!" One of the big men recognizes him, and Louis faintly remembers him as the friendly doorman named Risco, who never bothered to learn his name correctly and would always let the pretties girls in. "What brings y' here, mate?" His voice somehow manages to sound louder than the music itself.

Risco's eyes land on Niall. "Oh, fuck me! If it ain't for me big Irish mate, Nialler, how are ya?" He exclaims, parting Niall hard on the shoulder.

"Risco we need to come in, we don't have invitations so we're hoping you could let your old friends off the hook?" Niall asks, completely ignoring the previous question.

Risco grins, and Louis could see his gold grillz that hasn't changed at all. "Course I can," he says and ushers them inside without further stalling.

The music seems a million times louder, and it feels as if every beat is coming from Louis' heart. Considering the rate it was beating at, he wouldn't be surprised. It's a neon party, and colorful bodies glow under the violet light.

Sweaty bodies are pressed against each other, grinding, and some are making out. Actual strippers are walking around, their tits out for everyone to see and touch. They lead men and women into dark corners, and others are dancing on poles placed for the occasion. There are tables filled with white powder lines, and people snorting them with bills from their own pockets.

Booze is everywhere they look, glowing in different neon tones in clear glasses, pills are being exchanged like candy, some placing them on their tongues and others picking them right off with their mouth. The air stinks of weed, beer, and smoke. There are other smells that Louis doesn't even want to place.

There are so many people walking around him; it makes Louis dizzy. He grips Niall's forearm as they push past the people who are too invested in their party to give a shit.

"Where are we supposed to go?" Niall yells over the music, and even then, Louis has a hard time hearing him. He shrugs, biting his lip as he looks around the room helplessly. He should have asked Risco if he'd seen Fizzy.

A small blonde girl is running toward him, only wearing a crop top that looks more like a bra. It probably is. Her makeup is smudged, and her pupils are almost as big as her blue irises. "She collapsed, and I don't know what to do," She sobs into Louis' chest.

"Who collapsed?" He asks carefully, using a gentle hand to bring her eyes to him. The girl, only sobs, taking Louis' hand and pulling him along. He's thankful that he was holding on to Niall because they would have been separated otherwise.

The girl leads them to a room, it's quite dark, and the music fades ever so slightly. People are making out, others whispering things to each other, but what frightens Louis the most is the people sticking needles into their arms.

He turns to the blonde. "Who collapsed?" He asks again, this time more sternly. The girl gives out one last choked sob before pointing to the limp body of his sister.


	2. II. The Hills

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i was going to post once every week, but today is august 16, meaning it would have been fizzy’s 20th birthday. she’s such a big part of my heart and i have — and will always— looked up to her, and i’m uploading this chapter for her.
> 
> we miss you fizz, i miss you so much. rest easy my angel. happy birthday baby girl.
> 
> you are never alone, addictions should not be fought in silence. you can do this
> 
> Cami xx

❝ _Hills have eyes; the hills have eyes_

_Who are you to judge?_

_Who are you to judge?_

_Hide your lies, girl, hide your lies_

_Only you to trust, only you._ ❞

**_-The Weeknd_ **

꧁ ** _H A R R Y_** ꧂

**TWO MONTHS LATER**

" **DARLING** ," it's a gentle voice that Harry almost mistakes for his mum. His eyes remain closed, and he thinks that maybe everything is just a bad dream he's about to wake up from.

A careful hand shakes him lightly, but that doesn't stop Harry from bolting awake. The lady who had just been trying to help him jumps back in frightened surprise. He thinks maybe they found him, and a soft voice was enough to get him to trust his surroundings, that is until he realizes that the seatbelt is uncomfortably digging into his hip.

Harry blinks the sleepiness from his eyes, and they land on an older woman sitting beside him on the bus seat. "Sorry to frighten you dear, but we've arrived," Her gray eyes scan Harry with interest.

"Oh," his voice sounds miles away, and his heart feels heavy. It's been hours since he ran away, and he already misses his family. Harry knows that as long as he's near them, they're in danger. "Thanks," he mutters, grabbing his backpack and slinging it over his shoulder. The woman gives him a sad smile before standing up and walking out of the bus.

As soon as his feet hit the ground, a small weight seems to lift off his shoulders. It might not be as far as he'd hoped, but Doncaster was the place to begin. Harry plans to get a job, a stable to place to live for a bit, and then run away to a different country once he's got enough to support him. He thinks America might be a good option since it's across the sea, and there are barely any chances of them finding him.

With one last deep breath, he walks into the uncertainty that is his future.

_꧁ **J U L I E T A** ꧂_

TAPPING her fingers absentmindedly, Julieta doesn't even pretend to be listening to what the teacher, Mrs. Blanchett, talks about a project that she couldn't care less about. The only thing in her mind is how there is a seat towards the front, close to the door, that's empty. Fizzy is missing class again, and Julieta finds herself wishing they were more intimate, so she knew what kept the girl from ever attending school.

It's pathetic how all she's managed to talk about since she started the sixth form was a girl Julieta was only allowed to admire from afar. She'd only recently come back from Barcelona, her home, and found herself in the town of Doncaster north of England.

She'd lived back and forth between countries, but after her mother had vanished without a trace in the middle of the night, she'd found it quite unbearable to be back home; the mansion seeming more like a prison than a home every day. Her father just busied himself, writing and recording songs. He'd barely paid any mind to his grieving daughter. Juli can't blame him; he doesn't know how to deal with feelings much anymore.

Sometimes, Julieta swears that she could hear her mother singing off-key to her, but it had never mattered because it was the voice that soothed the little girl scared from nightmares or thunder. Duerme, duerme, negrito que tú mamá está en el campo, negrito.

The lullaby is a Latinx classic, and her mother always sung it because her Colombian roots never left. A pang of unwanted pain blinds Julieta for a second, and she must have made some sort of startled noise because the entire class is looking at her with a strange curiosity.

She'd managed to lay low. Julieta is exceptionally proud of the fact that she can fly under the radar, even though her father is Marcos Cortez, one of the biggest bachata stars of this generation. Julieta blames it on the small-minded ways of the English, who barely acknowledge the world outside of them. That could also be because Juli refuses to be seen out with her father, but he doesn't seem to care.

"Miss Juliet, is the end of term project that much of a pain in the arse that you just had to whimper?" Mrs. Blanchett looks done with Julieta. She tries to swallow the annoyance down when she hears the English variation of her name.

That's another thing that belonged to her mother. Maria Alejandra Saramego was on her way to becoming a star, a theater one. Yeah, she couldn't sing to save her life, but her acting made up for it. Her parents had met after her Dad had gone backstage to meet the cast of a very well-spoken take of Romeo and Juliet or Romeo Y Julieta because her mom was always extra like that.

They fell in love and married in less than a year. It wasn't up for discussion, Marcos had sweet-talked Alejandra into having a baby even though her career was at her prime. She was so in love with him that she agreed. The only condition was that they were going to name the child Julieta.

A small sense of warmth spreads through her as she remembers the sleepless nights with her mother, asking for a story after story. Her father had laughed and asked what they would do if the baby were a boy, Mami didn't seem fazed by that; the only hint of emotion was a fond smile that played her lips.

"I would have named you, Julian!" She had exclaimed; her Spanish accent was as thick as ever.She'll never understand why her mother left. Everything seemed to be going so well.

The trip down memory lane was enough to make Julieta completely forget about her surroundings. The teacher and class were still staring at her expectantly. "Uh, I'm sorry," She mutters quickly, looking down at her fingers, which were chipping off a baby blue nail polish.

The class seems to go back to normal, and Mrs. Blanchett goes on a small rant about how all men suck, and Julieta finds herself wondering how this could relate to psychology.

"You are too obvious," Michael whispers to Julieta as she once again finds herself zoning out while looking at the empty chair that belongs to Fizzy.

Julieta isn't sure when or how her admiration started, but all she could see when she tries to think about it is a pair of ridiculously blue eyes and plump red lips. "Huh," she blinks herself out of her trance and focuses on Michael and his colorful hair.

Michael Clifford had been one of the only people that bothered to talk to Julieta, and she found herself with a new best friend. He's the textbook definition of punk, with colorful hair sticking out in a million different directions, lip rings, and piercings, and pale skin showing through band and anime t-shirts.

He's also the only one who Julieta has come out to. When she did tell him, after months of being eaten alive by the feeling of holding a secret so personal, she was expecting a more shocked reaction. She was pleasantly surprised when he paused his game for two seconds, long enough to give her an unimpressed look. "Okay," he had stated. Julieta has felt like throwing herself out of a window there.

"You're not mad?" she asked carefully. "Or..... disgusted?"

Michael looked baffled and a little offended. "Why the hell would I care if you like tits, better for me anyway because I can rant without grossing you out."

She'd barely been able to contain her relived laughter. "Why aren't you surprised?" she had questioned.

He shrugged, putting his controller down. "You stare too longingly at Elizabeth from Seven Deadly Sins," and without a word, he was back to playing his game, yelling at the others through the mic. At that moment, Julieta knew that she loved Mikey and his ridiculous self.

"Sorry," she mutters to him. "I just can't help it, she's barely in class, and I need something pleasant to stare at."

Micheal feigns hurt. "I am the most good looking person here; people are just too scared even to look outside of the box," he scoffs.

Julieta chuckles lightly. "Sure you are, lad, if I close my eyes, I could almost see your uncanny resemblance to Ryan Gosling!" she whispers mockingly.

Michael lets out a strange noise, like a mixture of a gasp and a squeak. "Fuck off, Cortez," he mutters before looking down to his doodle of an amine girl with a ridiculously ample bosom.

"You horny wanker," she mutters under her breath, loud enough to have Mikey snicker. She'd only been in Doncaster for almost a year and had already adapted to the slang. Julieta owns most of the credit to Mikey, who taught her every bad thing he could.

Mrs. Blanchett's rambling is cut short as the door of the classroom bursts open. To everyone's surprise, Félicité comes into the room. Her brown hair is messy, and she looks like she just rolled out of bed.

Ms. Blanchett looks unimpressed. "Nice of you to join us, Tomlinson," she says, narrowing her eyes at Fizzy. She doesn't seem fazed. Instead, she walks right to her seat like she hadn't missed the majority of the class.

Julieta could almost feel herself sitting up straighter subconsciously. Félicité is wearing a black jumper that’s entirely too big for her small slim frame. She didn't get to catch a good look at her face, but by the way Fizzy's body leans heavily against the desk Julieta can tell she's exhausted.

"Right," Ms. Blanchett clears her throat. "Well, seeing as we have a few more minutes left of class, let's use it to our advantage."

The class is surprisingly silent, maybe because lunch is next and everyone is starving and itching to get away. "I have decided that since this project is already the majority of your grade for the term, and it's a tedious task, that I would let you choose your partners."

Conversation erupts in the room, friends turning to each other to ask to partner up. Julieta doesn't need to ask, because it's more of an unspoken agreement that she and Michael would always partner up.

"So you'll have to write a report together, a minimum of twenty pages MLA format, as you should," Ms. Blanchett makes it a point to emphasize the last point. "I will, however, choose your topics, so don't get too comfortable. Remember, this is your final grade of the term, and it will be a big one. Do not, and I cannot stress this enough, leave it until the last minute. Get to work on it immediately, give yourselves time to perfect the piece until I get the closest thing to perfection. Now, choose your partners, and don't be too loud because it's never too late to assign you someone of my choosing."

The students scramble up to talk to their new partners as Mrs. Blanchett goes back to sitting on her chair behind the desk. As far as teachers go, Ms. Blanchett was a strange one. She always wore cardigans, and her hair was a mess, sticking out in different directions and streaked with gray. She looked more like a hippie than a psychology teacher.

Julieta is about to turn to Michael to ask where they should meet up for the project when a set of delicate hands slam on the table—startled by the sudden noise, Juli squeals.

Standing before her is none other than Fizzy Tomlinson. Her eyes look even more mesmerizing than ever up close, and her skin is a beautiful milky white. It takes every ounce of will power that Julieta has to keep from reaching out and tucking the stubborn strand of hair that falls on Fizzy's dream-like face.

"Hi," she says. Her voice is so incredibly soft, and it feels like silk as the sound goes through her ears. "You don't have a partner yet, do you?" She asks, her eyes briefly glancing at Michael, who seems almost as surprised as she is.

Before Julieta could answer, Michael, sits up. "She does not!" he clears his throat. "She's all yours."

Julieta can't even stop herself from sending him a glare. What is he doing? She wants to scream and turn Fizzy down, but as her mouth quirks up into a glorious smile that makes all of her limbs feel like jelly, Julieta suddenly forgets how even to form words.

Fizzy is still grinning at her, mindlessly grabbing a chair from the table before them and sitting on it, her arms resting on the back as she beams at Julieta. "My social worker and my brother are on my arse for not doing well in this class, you seem like a good student, and I need to pass."

Julieta still feels like she's in a dream, and the butterflies in her stomach are not helping the nerves. She doesn't even realize Félicité is waiting for her to respond until Michael kicks her shin under the table.

"Ow— I mean, sure I'd love to help!" she rushes out, surprised her voice even managed to work. Mikey has a satisfied smirk as he leans against the chair.

"Awesome," Fizzy smiles. "You aren't busy tonight, are you?"

The truth is, she's never busy unless Michael drags her out of her house, or forces her to get out of bed and do something. For some reason, Julieta feels embarrassed to admit this to Fizzy, who seems incredibly cool and who always has plans after school.

"I— I think I do," she clears her throat. "But school is more important. I can cancel it."

Once the words leave her mouth and Fizzy's smile falters just long enough for Julieta to notice, she feels like the biggest idiot. She probably looks so desperate and uncool, the complete opposite of what she had been trying to achieve.

"So does this mean no?" Fizzy inquires. Her hands now rest on the table, and Julieta can't help but notice the letters tattooed on the skin that peeks out from where Félicité rolled up her jumper's sleeves. She wonders what they mean and stares for a little too long.

"Oh, no— I mean yes, or wait, no, I'm free we can meet later today," she stumbles over her words as and mentally curses at herself.

Fizzy is smiling again, but it looks forced. "You're not obligated to do it, of course," she clarifies. "You just seem nice, and new friends never hurt anyone."

Julieta's heart almost stops completely as she registers what Fizzy is saying. She wants them to be friends, and Julieta is reasonably sure she isn't dreaming. She pinches her thigh under the table, though, just to make sure.

"Okay, where do you want to meet?" Julieta asks nervously.

Fizzy seems to consider this for a moment. "Well, my house is a complete circus right now, but my brother will have to meet you before I could go anywhere else. So, would you mind coming to mine?"

"No, it's all good," somehow, her heart seems to have returned to its original place.

"Great, give me your phone," Fizzy beams, scooting closet in her chair. Julieta can smell her from here, and it's an odd mixture of perfume and... cigarette smoke? Wordlessly, Juli hands the girl her phone open to create a new contact screen.

Fizzy types her information in and texts herself, adding a string of emoticons that Julieta finds endearing. She locks the phone before giving it back to Julieta. "Alright, text me after class. Your name is....?"

And her bubble bursts. Of fucking course, Fizzy Tomlinson doesn't know who she is. She holds in a disappointed sigh. "Julieta," she croaks, her throat feeling dangerously closed up. No, she is not going to cry over this. Ever since her mother left, her emotions have been heightened.

Fizzy smiles. "Félicité, but my friends call me Fizzy," she says, extending a hand for Julieta to shake. She does, treasuring the feeling of her incredibly soft skin against her own. Her bracelets jiggle as their hands move up and down. Julieta lets go first, afraid that if she held on long enough, she would go into some sort of gay coma.

"I'm Michael," Michael interjects, giving Fizzy an ear to ear grin.

"Hi Michael, I like your hair," she says. "Sorry, I stole your partner."

Michael shrugs. "I'll find one," he says as his eyes scan the room. "Aha! You, with the blond hair!"

A boy with a blond fringe looks up. He's handsome, with bright blue eyes and a lip ring adorning the corner of his mouth, Fizzy giggles. "That's Luke," she says with questionable fondness.

"Luke!" Michael calls. "You're my partner."

The boy— Luke, glares at Fizzy. He stands up, surprising Julieta with his height. He's lean, and his lanky arms stick out from a black shirt. He sits down next to Fizzy with a huff.

"Don't be antisocial," she scolds Luke, ruffling his hair.

Julieta is more than surprised. Luke is so quiet that she usually forgets he's even in the class. Hell, she didn't even know his sodding name until Fizzy had mentioned it.

"Okay, so it's settled," Ms. Blanchett breaks the chatter of the class with her voice. "I'll be walking around handing you a piece of paper with your topic, so please sit by your partner."

She goes through the room rather quickly, handing torn shreds of paper with messy scrawls on them. Finally, she hands Julieta a paper, eyeing the strange pairs before her. With one last confused glance, she gives Luke a paper and walks away.

"What does it say?" Fizzy asks.

Julieta unfolds the scrap and reads the word scribbled on it. "Prejudice," she reads. Great, they had gotten the social branch of psychology.

"Sounds fun," Fizzy says.

The bell rings, and they all stand up, and to her surprise, Fizzy is embracing her. Her skinny arms wrap around Julieta's neck, Fizzy is taller than her, her chin barely reaching her shoulder. Fizzy pulls away first, holding her at arm's length. "Thank you, sorry if I ruined any chances between you and punk prince over there," she giggles, nodding her head towards Michael, who seems to be getting along with Luke rather well.

"Oh, uh, it's not like that," Julieta mumbles awkwardly.

"Oh, sorry, I just assume—"

"No, it's fine,"

Fizzy glances at her for a second, biting her lip lightly. "I'm not homophobic; I shouldn't have assumed anything I just figured—"

"I'm not gay!" Julieta blurts out, her heart suddenly beating a million miles a minute. Fizzy flinches back from her, a look of guilt twisting her beautiful features. Fuck, she's the gayest of gays.

"Oh," she says. Standing up straighter, Fizzy turns. "Well, I better get going." She's gone before Julieta could even say anything.

They haven't even adequately talked or known each other for longer than ten minutes, and Julieta already found a way to fuck it up. This project will be a painful process.


	3. III. Carmen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey!!! so sorry for the delay with this chapter, but I've been working and school starts soon and I honestly just didn't have much motivation for this chapter. however, it turned out quite well. i start school on august 31 so I have to balance work, school, and this fic, so updates will be inconsistent. i do promise that I will do everything I can to update as soon as I can. okay so today is the 28 and syco is done for, we've gotten so many unseens and so much new stuff and ahhhh. who's going to the LP show act 2 tomorrow? I am!   
> okay I think this is enough lmfao, here's the delayed chapter three.
> 
> -cami xx

❝ _Baby's all dressed up with nowhere to go_

_That's the little story of the girl you know_

_Relying on the kindness of strangers_

_Tying cherry knots, smilin', doin' party favors_

_Put your red dress on, put your lipstick on_

_Sing your song, song, now, the camera's on_

_And you're alive again._ ❞

  
_- **Lana del Rey**_

**꧁ _F É L I C I T É_ ꧂**

**SOMETIMES** the hurt gets to be too much for Félicité to handle. She doesn't even realize she's doing it. It's like she blacks out, waking up with a joint on her fingers as she sits on the roof of her house while everyone else sleeps. She always sneaks out after Louis comes to check on her before heading to bed.

  
She doesn't sleep anymore. Every time Félicité tries to forget, to get a good night's sleep, she's woken up by the scarily real dreams.

It's always the same. She has precisely eleven minutes to stop her mom from getting in her car. The car that eventually leads to her demise.

  
It sucks, each time she gets closer and closer to saving her, but she's never been able to. It's almost been a year since the accident, and life isn't the same at all.

  
Right now, all she can hear is the soft pants and moans coming from Ajax as he rocked his hips against her. What has Fizzy's life come to? Sex in the bathroom during lunch, drugs whenever the memories become too hard to suppress, and two different versions of herself.

  
After her accidental overdose a few months back, her family had barely let her breathe on her own. Every day Louis made it a point to visit her in rehab and while she was at the hospital. Lottie came whenever Louis had to go to work, but that always made Félicité feel worse. She loved Fizzy, and the pain in Lottie's eyes, whenever she saw her younger sister in a hospital bed looking almost dead, was unbearable.

  
She supposed the things she always found herself doing things to forget, to feel something, even as insignificant as an orgasm or a moment of euphoria that she got from drugs. However, she could hardly focus enough to get into an emotional state of mind, and she didn't feel anything. It was scary. It felt as if she were underwater, and Ajax's voice is muffled.

  
Félicité feels his muscles clench as he gives one particularly hard last thrust. Before she knows it, he's groaning, filling the condom as he moans Fizzy's name. She tries to push away the slight disgust at herself. Ajax is pulling out without another word, not seeming to have noticed Félicité didn't reach her orgasm. Maybe he can tell that she doesn't give a shit.

  
They get dressed again, often bumping on to each other due to the small space of the stall. They have one class left, and Félicité already knows she's late. Before she can exit the bathroom, Ajax is blocking the door, his brown eyes gleaming down at her. "Will I see you after school?" he asks, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. Fizzy barely suppresses an eye roll. "No," she says cooly. "I have a project after school."

  
Félicité liked Julieta enough; she was quiet, often sitting in the back of the class with her colorful friend. She didn't seem like the type to pry, which is what drew Fizzy to her in the first place. She could have asked Luke, but knowing Louis, he would go into a panic as he sees the tight clothes and lip ring. The funniest thing is that Luke has never touched a drug in his life, the worst being cigarettes. He had briefly mentioned something about hallucinogens making his schizophrenia act up. Félicité didn't press for details, as she wouldn' want anyone trying to stick their noses in her business. 

  
Ajax is looking at her like she suddenly sprouted a third head. "Since when do you care about anything other than getting shit-faced?" He asks.

  
Fizzy knows he's only joking, but that doesn't stop her from sending him a glare. His ridiculous smug smirk never leaves his pale face. Ajax is good looking, and everyone in school knew that. His tousled black hair, pale white skin, the intriguing haunted look in his eyes. Fizzy knows that it's only because he's always high or hungover in school. 

  
"Since I'm almost failing psychology by my social worker's standards," Félicité answers nonchalantly. Ajax gives her a pout that he is convinced makes him look like a sad puppy. In reality, his face just seems as if it were being stretched away from his skull.  
"So can you call me after and we can sneak out," He grins.

  
Félicité considers this but finds that she just doesn't have the energy to act as if she's enjoying sex. Instead of outright telling him to fuck off, Fizzy smiles at him. "I'll try," she lies. Félicité knows that she could make up some excuse that would let her off the hook effortlessly. 

  
She awkwardly pats Ajax on the shoulder before slipping past him and heading to her next class. The campus seems empty, only a few students on the main lawn talking and smoking cigarettes, they don't even spare her a second glance as she walks past them. When she opens the door to her next class, she finds they barely react, already used to Félicité never being on time. 

  
Her seat is always in the same place, back of the class. Psychology was the only exception to the sitting arrangement, for the sole reason that it seemed like a mildly interesting. Economics was a pain in the arse, and she should have skipped it entirely. Her mind wandered back to a happier time in Fizzy's life. When Pheobe and Daisy were eager kids, Doris and Ernest being the crying machines they were yet never failing to warm Félicité's heart.

  
Lottie didn't hate her then. She wasn't ashamed of her younger sister. Louis had been falling into a dark hole himself then, that being the only thing that tinted the memories. Félicité remembers her mother's soothing voice and snarky attitude, how she would poke fun at everyone, and never failed to make them smile.

  
Her blood runs cold when she finds she cannot remember the exact shade of blue of her mother's eyes. In little time Félicité would have forgotten her laugh too, and eventually, she will fade to a picture on their wall. The room seems to close in around her, and every breath seemed like it weighed a thousand pounds. No, Félicité could not afford to have a panic attack right now.  
With every shuddery breath, Félicité took, she forced herself to count down from five, naming something relating to her five senses. By the time she got to number three, three things she could hear, breathing seemed more manageable.

  
Class is dismissed not long after, and Félicité walks out with her hood pulled over her head and looking down at her shoes. Some glare at her, others jump away, but she can't be bothered to care. Laughing teenagers hang out by the main lawn, others chat in the hallways. Félicité scans the crowd, looking for two identical brunette heads, or maybe a girl with sea-green eyes looking at her in awe.

  
She exits the building, taking a deep breath of the bitterly cold December air. Cars leave, and the college seems to be emptying fast. Surely enough, two identical girls are chatting with a boy by one of the trees. Daisy is holding on to his waist, planting kisses on his shoulder, and Phoebe looks uncomfortable. Félicité tries to remember the boy's name, but nothing seems to be it. It started with a T that she was sure of. Tanner? Thomas? She couldn't remember. 

  
Félicité also spots Michael's colorful hair as he pushes Julieta toward the twins. They catch sight of her and wave them over. It's probably time for Félicité to join them, so she walks there in long strides. She has almost reached them when something knocks her over full force. Félicité falls to the ground with an unpleasant umph, and the air is knocked out of her lungs. Her sisters rush to her side, Julieta and the boy reach over to help whoever had crashed onto her.

  
It's a boy with a mess of curls on his head. His face is seemingly dirty, and his clothes looked wrinkled and worn as if he had been wearing them for days. There is panic in his bright green eyes as they dart around their surroundings. He flinches when the boy extends a hand to help him up. With a bit of a struggle, he gets back on his extremely long legs. "Sorry," he mumbles before running away as fast as his legs could carry him.

  
"You okay?" It's Julieta who cuts through the thick silence that seems to have fallen upon the group. She is leaning next to Félicité, laying her hand gently on her shoulder, thin lips pressed into a tight smile. It does something to Félicité's chest because she suddenly feels hot all over.  
"I'm alright," she assures. "I think."

  
Julieta laughs and Fizzy finds herself mesmerized by the music like tone of it. She makes a silent note to herself to bring it out again. Julieta helps FIzzy up, and her sisters are looking at her worriedly. She hates that, that same look that Lottie had whenever she was forced to be in the same room as Félicité. "Weird, innit?" she jokes.

  
Daisy gives her a hesitant smile. Michael clears his throat, and everyone turns to him. Félicité had forgotten he was here. "Right, so have Julieta home by ten no minute later, and if one hair is out of place, I'll personally hunt you down." He states.

  
Next to Félicité, Julieta groans. "Go find Luke and get lost," she grunts. With one last shit-eating grin, Michael spins on his heel and walks away. Daisy turns to the boy once again. "I've got to get home. I'll call you later, Tom."

  
Right, so his name was Tom. They kiss, Phoebe gags, and Daisy flips her off. Félicité barely holds in her laughter. Now that Tom is gone, it's only the girls left. Phoebe looks at Julieta apprehensively. 

Right, now they always had to analyze any human who got within six feet of Félicité. Julieta squirms under her intense gaze, which only stops after Daisy elbows her twin. "We have to pick up the twins from Carla," Daisy informs.

  
Carla was a good friend of their mother, Johanna, and she had been a great help after she and Dan passed away. She usually picked up Ernest and Doris from the nursery, keeping them until the girls picked them up on their way home from school. Soon enough, they'll be back, and Fizzy could get this over with.

  
With the help of Julieta, Félicité manages to stand up on her feet with at least some dignity intact. She dusts off her jumper, which belongs to Louis, but Fizzy had found it in her closet. Ever since her overdose Louis has been leaving some extra jumpers or shirts that Fizzy could wear. Although she will furiously deny it if asked, that made her feel loved and wanted. 

  
All Louis had wanted from her was to be safe. Félicité just didn't want that, and she could see it in Louis' eyes that he knew that too. That never stopped him from giving her an extra peck on the cheek or forehead, excess tea, or some unrequited cuddles. It made Félicité uncomfortable how much he cared; she felt like such an utter failure that she knew she didn't deserve any kind of affection.

  
They're walking away from the college, and to Félicité's surprise, the twins are getting along with Julieta just fine, laughing and joking around like long lost friends. Félicité trails behind them, lighting a cigarette and watching as it burned down to the filter without taking a drag. Despite it all, smoking wasn't her thing. She just liked the smoke and smell. It reminds Félicité of the parties where she could completely forget what a tragic story her life was.

  
The sky is gray, reflecting Félicité's current mood. They walk past stores and a plaza with countless food trucks. The air smells delicious, and when Félicité's stomach grumbles, she realizes that she didn't have anything to eat all day. Okay, maybe she should stop spacing out and pay attention to her body and its needs. They stop right outside Carla's neighbourhood, which is a few blocks away from their own home. 

  
"So, what class do you take with Fiz?" Daisy inquires. Her arm is threaded through Julieta's, and Phoebe has the other. Of fucking course they're trying to win her over. "Oh," Julieta answers, her eyebrows furrowing for a second. "A few actually, but we have a psychology project."

  
A few? Félicité only remembers her from psychology but no other class. Maybe it's because she's too stoned, hungover, or just not there at all. Biting her lip, Fizzy catches up with the group.   
They near a small yellow house, with pastel flowers decorating the front garden and porch of it. It looks like a fake home; one may be used for filming annoyingly bright commercials. Carla is an older lady from Spain, having moved to England back in the seventies. She had stepped up and helped Louis with the younger twins after the accident that claimed both of their parents' lives.   
Daniel and Johanna Deakin, we're both lost that day, and Fizzy supposes she can't be too angry and sad, considering her father is still alive. Is he, though? Félicité can't remember the last time she saw him without the dazed look in his eyes or the way the bags underneath them seemed to take permanent residence. He's a shell of a man, a walking corpse. He might as well be dead.

Félicité knew that he was still in love with her Mum, but he knew that he was just holding her back, and it truly was not working out. That didn't stop the pain of the wedding or the loss. 

They walk to the brightly colored door, painted an excruciatingly bright shade of blue. Phoebe rings the bell, once, twice, and before she could ring a third time, the door opens. A short, curvy lady with bright crimson lipstick and dark painted eyebrows answers, and her mouth splits into a wide grin. "My Tomlinson tias!" Carla exclaims, embracing Phoebe and Daisy, then wrapping her short arms around Félicité's slim waist. She stops before Julieta, giving her a warm smile.   
"And who is this bonita?" Carla asks.

  
Julieta blushes but extends her hand for Carla to shake. "I'm Julieta," she answers shyly.   
Carla being the overly loving person she is, embraces Juliet and swings them side to side like they were old friends. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Muñeca," she smiles sweetly at Julieta. She blushes and returns her shy smile. 

  
"Carla, we'd love to stay and chat but we need the twins and to head home, Fiz here has a project," Daisy explains.

  
Carla's eyes widen in realization and she snaps her fingers. "Your brother picked them up around two hours ago, something about a surprise or something. He said he'd text you."

  
Phoebe and Daisy exchange worried glances and Félicité stands up straighter. Louis had not texted any of them about the sudden change of plans. After Fizzy's overdose, Louis, Lottie, Daisy, Phoebe, and her had decided to text everyone about every detail regarding their whereabouts or change of plans, and the fact that Louis had not told them about picking up the younger twins up earlier it could not be good.

  
"Thanks, Carla," Félicité speaks up before taking off in the direction of their house. If anything happened to anyone else in this family Félicité is certain she will not survive the pain. She can faintly hear her sister and Julieta calling after her.

  
When she finally turns the corner to get to their home, Félicité stops once she notices the two cars parked in the driveway. She recognizes the van that belongs to the soccer mom that is her older brother, and the other one is a modern cherry red Tesla that belongs to someone Félicité does not have the energy to deal with at the moment.

  
Julieta reaches her first, panting and looking a few seconds away from passing out. The twins get there soon after. They spot the cherry colored car and their faces split into ridiculous grins. "Nice house," Julieta gasps out. Fizzy glances at her and reminds herself Julieta has nothing to do with the unfortunate company inside. "Thanks," is all she says.

  
The door is unlocked and the second they enter Félicité is bombarded by the familiar loud laughs and the smell of overpriced perfume and peppermint tea. 

  
"Lottie!" Phoebe cries, throwing her arms around her older sister's petite frame. Daisy follows and so do the other twins and soon Lottie is being tackled onto the sofa. Julieta stands awkwardly next to Félicité. Louis stands leaning against the doorway to the kitchen in an old band t-shirt and sweats and a big grin on his face."Surprise," he says cheerily.

  
Lottie was in LA working as a make-up artist for a big singer Félicité doesn't feel like remembering at the moment. She wasn't supposed to come back until a few days before New Year's eve, collectively missing both Christmas and their brother's birthday. After Félicité's "accident" as Lottie likes to put it, she only traveled back for three days.

Part of Félicité resents her because after the death of their Mum and Dan Lottie fucked off to America for her fancy new makeup job, leaving all the burdens on their older brother who just wanted to graduate Uni. Louis being the selfless and amazing human being he is, didn't say anything and dropped out of Manchester University and settled for a job in an Italian restaurant and taking care of his five siblings and step-father. Lottie does send money to help Louis, but there is always so much more she could do, not to mention that the shame in her eyes that is there whenever she looks at Fizzy makes her feel even worse.

Félicité does not move from her spot by the doorway. "You scared us," She tells Louis, not even bothering to greet her sister. Louis stands up straight and looks at her with remorse. "Sorry, with the excitement of Lottie being back it must've slipped my mind."

  
Lottie eyes Julieta who hasn't said anything or moved from her spot next to Fizzy. "Who's this, Félicité?" She asks. Félicité. No one close to her besides herself refers to Fizzy as Félicité, except for Lottie who has made it a point to only use her first name since her overdose.  
"I'm Julieta," Julieta chirps up.

  
Louis looks at her and visibly relaxes as he takes in her More Than Friends shirt, denim jacket, black leggings, and white converse. She looks like a good girl, someone who won't get Fizzy into any kind of trouble. She hates that her family is so apprehensive when it comes to anyone getting near her. 

  
To Félicité's surprise Lottie smiles at Julita. "Lovely meeting you, I'm Félicité's sister Lottie."  
Julieta sends her a charming smile. Louis introduces himself too, then forces Ernie and Doris to say hi. Félicité grabs Julieta's wrist and drags her to the stairs, but before they could even begin to climb them and get to Fizzy's room, Louis stops them. "Lottie will be staying in your room too, so be mindful."

  
  


Well fuck.


	4. IV. Afterlife

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiiiiii sorry for the delay in this chapter, I got unexpectedly busy with school, life, and literally everything. also, I had a minor writer's block, but it was mostly for this story. i will be working on another story, a historical larry au pretty much, but don't worry, I'll be writing it with a friend and this story will stay my no.1 priority. Anyway, I hope you're all doing well, especially with all the ot5 content we've been getting this month. 9/28 is tomorrow, how are we feeling larries?  
> xxx  
> Cami

_❝I'm bad luck baby, you know_

_Follows me around everywhere I go_

_And I don't need your sympathy, no_

_I need a fuckin' miracle_ _.❞_

_-_ **_XYLØ_ **

  
  


꧁ **_L O U I S_ ** ꧂

“ **I’M** telling ya mate,” Niall grunts. Louis was sitting across from his Irish friends, helping him clean up the bar before closing time while he ranted about golf and other stupidities he could come up with. Louis himself had no clue as to what he was even talking about, but he nodded along anyway. “He was fuckn’ cheated, cheated I tell ya!”

Louis rolled his eyes playfully. “So I’ve heard,” he deadpans. NIall doesn’t seem to pay any mind to his sarcasm, and continues to talk about how climate change somehow had something to do with this. Of course, only Niall could make connections between the stupidest things.

His shift was over- and it had been for at least half an hour, but Louis hung around. He is payfully bantering with Niall while Eleanor sends them the occasional glare followed by a chuckle. It was good, finally being able to relax and not really worry about his sisters, particularly Fizzy. 

Lottie was there, so Louis didn’t have to worry about Fizzy’s whereabouts. That, and she also had a project to be working on with a nice enough girl. For once Louis could breathe without the crushing weight of parental worry, so he intended to make the most of it by hanging out with Niall while they closed down the restaurant.

Since Lottie’s arrival had been such a surprise, Louis had to pull some strings with Zayn to get him to trade shifts with him. It wasn’t too hard, considering Zayn would be having the same shift as Liam and therefore they could spend some well deserved couple time. After his sister’s overdose, Eleanor had been the one to offer Louis the earlier shifts so that he could spend the nights at home making sure Fizzy was alright. 

Louis wanted to switch his shifts around so that he could spend the day with his family, and he had Zayn to thank for that. Smiling to himself, Louis kept on cleaning the glasses. Almost as if Niall had read his mind, he says “I find it funny how easily Zayn gave up his shift for you,” he notes.

Louis huffs out a laugh. “One word: Liam,” he deadpans.

Niall bursts out laughing, his trademark _hahaha_ laugh. He’s probably the only person in the world who laughs exactly like that, and it never fails to give Louis a good chuckle too. “Mate, they go at it like bunnies!” he explains. “I’ve walked in on them more times than I’d like to admit.”

Louis smirks. “That’s because you have a tendency to barge in unannounced.”

Niall sends him a playful glare, and they fall into a comfortable silence as they finish cleaning up the glasses and wiping down tables.

Time flies by and they finish cleaning up the rest of the tables. Small conversations flowed easily between the three of them, but considering how late it was and how tired they were they didn’t really talk about anything remotely interesting. 

“Home sweet home, I’m coming darlin’,” Niall yells out, making Eleanor jump. She rolls her eyes and glares at Niall. 

“Is screaming really necessary at three in the morning?” she asks irritatedly. Niall being the cheeky bastard he is, shrugs and gives her a grin. 

“See ya next time, Elevator,” he calls out as he walks out the door.

Eleanor huffs in annoyance and rubs her temples. “He will give me an early death, I swear.”

Louis chuckles. Niall was quite the character, always being loud and not really having much of a filter. His incredibly large heart made up for it, as he was able to charm anyone he met. With his loud laughs and friendly nature, Niall brought in many customers, which Louis suspects is the reason he’s able to get away with so much shit.

He grabs his bag and pulls out his phone. There’s some new messages, one from Zayn which was a picture of a bottle of lube and a box of condoms with the caption “if we conceive, Liam and I were thinking of naming the baby after you, since you made it happen ;)” which had Louis laughing for a good few seconds.

 ** _Louis:_** _Neither of you can get pregnant, you knob_.

He was surprised when he received a reply.

 **_Zaynie Man:_ ** _With the night we had I wouldn’t doubt it._

 **_Louis:_ ** _I hate you so much._

 **_Zaynie Man:_ ** _ur wet dreams say otherwise luv xx._

In Louis’ defence, he had been severely deprived of any action and his mind is a weird fucking place. Plus, Liam wasn’t even in the picture yet nd Louis woke up wanting to throw up. Leave it to Zayn to keep throwing it in his face. Yeah, Zayn looked like a god but Louis could only see him as a brother. He left Zayn on read, seeing as the wanker did not deserve any of his attention.

He leaves with one last wave to Eleanor and walks to his car. Doncaster is alive, and Louis smiles softly to himself as he spots couples giggling to each other. Louis longed to have a relationship, but because of his sudden parenthood dating was out of the question. Who in their right minds would date a man with five younger siblings clinging on to him like their lives depended on him, which ironically, they do. Louis can’t even think of the last time he was laid, and it was starting to take a toll on him. 

Now an openly gay man, Louis didn’ have to have the same worries he once had when it came to relationships, now he had more. It’s not that he didn’t love his siblings, or that he didn’t want to be taking care of them because frankly if he hadn’t wanted to no one would have been able to force him. Sometimes being the person everyone relies on can get tiring, especially when he himself didn’t have anyone else to really rant about his problems to.

Louis starts his car silently, drowning in his self pity as he starts to drive. Almost automatically his phone connects to his speakers and starts playing Young and Beautiful by Lana del Rey. Great, like sad love songs will do anything to improve his mood.

A few minutes into the song, it starts to rain and Louis groans. He absolutely fucking detests driving in the rain, it makes him incerdibly terrified because the roads are slippery, it’s hard to see, and it’s just so somber. His good night was turning into more of a nightmare. On top of that, half of the town decided to go for a late night drive and he was suddenly stuck in traffic. Honestly, the world just really heated him. Self pity seemed like the only answer at the moment. 

Louis dreaded being left alone with his thoughts, which often betrayed him. The car drives from work to home and home to work had to be with extremely loud music or in a call with any of his friends, but Louis was feeling particularly antisocial that night.

As he drove late at night while cursing out the sky and weather, Louis almost didn’t notice the figure on the bench of a bus stop, which was where his sisters usually took the bus. He’d passed by it enough times to know that no one ever slept under there, let alone on a rainy night.

His motherly instinct took the best of him and Louis pulled next to it. The person who was laying on the bench didn’t seem to notice him. From here Louis could see the stranger’s shoulders shaking as if they were crying. He reaches over to the glove compartment and pulls out an umbrella. It probably won’t help since it’s raining so hard but he at least had to try. He opens the door and steps out.

꧁ **_H A R R Y_ **꧂

Harry just wanted to sleep. That was out of the question, of course, as a moment of rest could be just as helpful as signing his own death warrant. He was still human, and god he was exhausted. Finding the bench was like a miracle, it provided some shelter from the rain and he could pass for a homeless person. Maybe he can finally get some rest.

It was freezing and all that Harry could think of was his Mum’s warm embrace, a cup of chamomile tea, and his home. He fucked it all up, now he was running for his life. He needed to find Zayn, the only person who successfully managed to escape. Of course, that will be a hell of a job considering Zayn hadn’t yet been found, so he barely had a chance to find him on his own.

Despite only being here for two days, Harry was doing a shit job at laying low. He had run into that one girl at the college, which was a big threat to his anonymity. She hadn’t looked like she recognized Harry, no one did, maybe he wasn’t that fucked after all. Harry shifted on the bench, wrapping his arms around himself to keep warm. It was cold, and Harry could not afford to get sick.

It all seemed to hit him, he was lost in a city he didn’t know, sleeping on bus stops in the cold rain, running for his and his family’s lives. It was almost like a vice breaking, all the emotion he’s been desperately shoving into the darkest corners of his heart spilling out like a dam breaking. Harry is now full on sobbing now, the rain only adding to his everlasting sadness. 

He notices the car that pulls up next to him, and a small voice inside his head is screaming at him, because why the fuck isn’t he running? He hears the engine die as an umbrella pops out from the driver’s seat, followed by the shadow of a man. Finally, the fear that had been delayed settles itself in Harry’s gut as his fist clenches around the strap of his bag. He’s about to make a run for it, disappear into the rainy night and maybe let himself be taken over by the cold. But then, he sees a pair of bright blue eyes staring at him, wide and incredibly vulnerable. As the light shifts and illuminates the stranger’s face better, Harry’s breath catches in his throat. 

Before him stands a man, not much older than Harry by the looks of it. His brown hair is plastered to his forehead with the rain, and his thin mouth is set into a worried frown. Harry can see the number 28 tattooed on his middle and ring finger on the hand which he is using to hold the flimsy umbrella. His eyes are filled with raw concern, and something about the warmness that spreads through Harry as the stranger’s eyes meet his own keeps his feet glued to the floor.

“It’s pouring!” he states, as if it wasn’t the most obvious thing and as if Harry’s shirt wasn’t sticking to him. His voice is soft, as if he were talking to a scared cat. Harry guesses he might not be too far off from that comparison.

“Really?” Harry remarks. “I hadn’t noticed.”

Much to Harry’s delight, the stranger smiles. His smile is swoon worthy, Harry soon notices, the way his eyes crinkle with amusement at Harry’s wit. The stranger steps closer, and he can see the hint of stubble on his jaw as the light shifts. 

The man gives Harry a look, a look he could only describe as “you’re okay, you’re okay now” and again Harry breaks.

  
  


The stranger is startled, but to his credit he recovers quickly and is covering Harry with his umbrella, trying his best to shield him from the rain. He’s always been a bit of a cry baby, something Gemma and his mates in school teased him mercilessly about. He sobs, ugly, throaty, and choked sobs. The stranger is fussing over Harry, making soothing noises and saying reassuring words, but he never lays a finger on him. 

“I just want to go home,” he whispers, mostly to himself. For a moment he forgot the stranger was there, and he jumps when he speaks up. 

“We’ll get you back home in no time, but let’s at least go somewhere where we aren’t being soaked.” He mutters. 

At that, Harry’s head snaps up. “No!” he cries.

The stranger blinks at him in confusion. “I- I can’t,” he mumbles in a stupidly small and broken voice.

“Why not?” The other man asks, his tone going even softer. Harry looks up to meet his eyes and makes possibly the stupidest decision ever. 

“I’m in trouble, and if I go back, my family will pay the price.” 

What was that people say? It’s easier to open up to total stranger than to someone you’ve known your whole life. Something flashes in the man’s eyes, a bit like he knows exactly what he means. This will mean life or death to Harry, but then again, what hasn’t?

“I’m Louis,” the man says suddenly. “I think I know how to help.”

Harry barely has time to give him a questioning look before he’s turning back to his car, leaving Harry alone in stunned silence. 

The man- Louis, turns to Harry and waves him over. Hesitantly, he walks to his car. What the actual fuck is he doing? He has no clue who Louis is, he could be some big drug boss for all he knew, ready to sell him out for even more money. Something about Louis’ soaking wet unicorn jumper tells him he might not be quite a danger. Still, Harry has no fucking clue why he’s getting in a stranger’s car in the middle of the night to go to god knows where.

If the very threatening looking unicorn jumper wasn’t enough of a reassurance that Louis wouldn’t harm a fly, when the car starts again Spice Girls boom from the speakers. Much to his amusement, Louis reddens and fumbles to turn off the radio.

“This is probably sketchy as hell,” Louis admits. “But I know someone who might help with whatever trouble you might be going through right now.”

Harry just nods, too busy scolding himself for his utter stupidity. They drive in tense silence for quite a bit, before Harry realizes he never told Louis his name. Honestly, the stupidity that he’s shown tonight deserves an award, because holy fuck.

“Harry,” he says, so low that he doesn’t think he really said anything, that is, until Louis shoots him a questioning look. 

“Pardon?” he asks.

Harry meets Louis’ gaze. “My name,” he says slowly. “Is Harry.”

Louis gives him a grin, a grin that fills Harry with an odd sense of pride for bringing it out of him. “Harry,” he says, though it mostly sounds like he’s testing the feel of it as it rolls off his tongue. He nods, “I like it.”

And that’s the last conversation they have until they reach their destination.

It’s a normal looking residential building, rather close to the Uni. He stares at it in wonder. Maybe, nothing bad will happen to him. This doesn’t look like a place where bad things usually happen, except for maybe a few parties. They exit the car before Louis turns to him. “I really hope I’m reading this right,” he admits. 

They turn into the building, and Harry watches as the receptionist barely spares them a second glance, too lost in his book which Harry recognizes as one his sister very adamantly said he was never allowed to read. Harry smirks at the memory, because _of course_ he did. He found it to be appalling, every sex scene that was explicity put into words made Harry’s skin crawl. That- Harry recalls, was the first sign that he might not be “normal”.

A pang of unexpected pain makes his heart clench as he remembers Gemma’s face after Harry had asked her a lot of questions about straight sex and was not so subtle at repressing his disgusted shudders. He misses his sister so much it hurt to breathe,

He barely registers stepping into a lift, and not for the first time he questions what the fuck he’s doing. 

Once they reach the floor, ninth apparently, they walk down a long corridor of apartments until they reach the last one, the one hidden behind a corner. Convenient, Harry thought.

Louis presses the buzzer, once, twice, and three times before Harry hears loud cursing, followed by a loud crash, followed by more cursing, and then followed by fond laughter. Harry furrows his eyebrows in confusion before the door bursts open.

“What in god’s name and everything that’s holy are you doing here Louis?” a man with dark brown hair asks. He’s shirtless, Harry notices, revealing a toned torso inked with various designs. He has a button nose, which makes him look as threatening as a puppy, even though his dark brown eyes are glaring at Louis.

“Liam,” Louis begins, but he never has a chance to finish because from behind Liam, a sleepy Zayn pops out. His eyes land on Harry and the world stops. Holy fuck, he found him, he found Zayn.

“Harry?” Zayn asks incredulously.

“Zayn, help me leave, _please,_ ” Harry pleads.

Some color returns to Zayn’s face and he nods. “Yeah,” he says, but he doesn’t sound too convinced. “Yeah okay.” he repeats, this time sounding more certain as he steps aside. Ignoring the questioning looks from Louis and Liam, Harry steps inside and almost immediately feels a weight lift off his shoulders. Maybe he will be okay after all.


End file.
